


Cafe Hookup

by Nabulos



Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-22
Updated: 2016-04-22
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:35:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25053247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nabulos/pseuds/Nabulos
Summary: Ariel sees Orion at an Energon Cafe and tries to hook up with him. He thinks she’s up to something.
Relationships: Ariel/Orion Pax
Comments: 2
Kudos: 10





	Cafe Hookup

“Yeah, I’ll just take the regular sized Fe-filled frap” politely requestsA riel. Having just come back from a supply run out of South Iacon, she is in _desperate_ need of a frap. Or a frag. Who knows?

The barista quickly fills her order, and wishes her a safe day. _It’s never a safe day out on the docks_ , she thinks, _not with all of us given this low-grade scrap_. But before her internal banter can reach a self-fulfilling null, a light airy voice carries itself to her audio receptors. A sip of her drink and a swivel of her head directs her to a mech, on the small side, with a strangely strong presence to him.

_Oh, he’s cute._

She decides to walk on by, innocently enough, to ‘watch the news’ scrolling on the monitor above the mech and his friend. Of course, the real story is how his optics burn with a hot zeal, while still keeping a relatively calm posture. _Feisty!_ Another sip and Ariel tunes into the conversation,

“It’s _wrong_ is what it is! Do you see the way they’re working poor Erector out there?” decries the red and blue four wheeler.

His yellow friend throws a servo to his helm. “ _Poor Erector?_ Erector. Poor. Orion, the craneformer’s union makes him one of the best paid-”

“Does the pay matter if you can’t put that money to use? Dion, come on, you know there’s more to life than functioning.

_Oh, he’s such a hand talker. 8/10. … Hold the pneumatic, Dion? He’s that mech from–_ She finds her opening. With a quick jerk of her head, she widens her optics, and smiles wide as she greets Dion. _Primus, I hope he remembers me_. “Hey, Dion! Haven’t seen you in a nano-click. How’ve you been?” 

Dion cuts off his response to the pretty mech to reciprocate the smile. “ _Ariel?_ Wow! Hey, yeah! I’ve been doing alright.” He gets up and gives the femme a mildly-uncomfortable/unnecessary hug. “Just talking to my bud Orion here. How’re you?”

_Oh, so his name is Orion?_

Before Ariel can say anything, Orion quickly composes himself and stands up, “Nice to meet you. Seems you have some catching up to do, if you want you can talk to Dion, I’ll go-” As he begins to leave, he finds his servo being held by Ariel. 

Her response is almost direct enough to be curt, but said eagerly enough to be endearing, “No, please, no reason to separate Amicas.”

A strong blue blush pushes forward on Dion’s face. Vocalizer moving faster than his processor, he stutters, “No we’re not– That’s not to say– Neither of us have–Wait no- Ahem. We’re just friends.”

“I’m only teasing, Dion.” _So, he **is** available._ Ariel take her seat with Orion following suit. Ariel chuckles and pats Dion on the shoulder reassuringly. She takes a look over at the pretty mech again. “But, I seem to have interrupted a conversation?”

“Oh, it’s nothing, I just get heated is all.” Orion waves his servo dismissing that molten-hot passion in his optics from mere moments ago.

“Heated is nothing! You should see this guy! I’m surprised we haven’t been thrown into a Tarnian Prison the way this mech talks!” Dion chokes a half-laugh.

Ariel tilts her head, leans forward, putting her elbows on the table, and looks into Orion’s currently perplexed, optics, “You don’t _look_ like much of a talker.”

“Oh, I’m afraid I haven’t been allowed into a library since the Rust Incident,” he chuckles nervously, his optics switching from their previous fervor to absolute softness.

_Oh gosh. 9/10_

She settles into her seat and patiently drinks more of her iron-y frap as Dion tries to explain something. But honestly? Orion’s the main attraction here. She takes a look over at the clock, marked with alt-modes on the side. _Trucks are on duty, these two look like low-load bearers, and I’ve got another half hour. Let’s try and burn some rubber._

She snaps out of her situational analysis routine and notices that even though Dion is prattling on nervously about anecdotes no one cares about, Orion is locked onto him. His body language is soft, open, but his visage is almost… imploring Dion to talk. There’s an earnestness in him that strikes her as charming. In the middle of Dion’s monologue, Orion momentarily looks at Ariel with those same optics and smiles.

_Wh–woah. T_ he smile could not have lasted more than a moment, but that was it. She was done. _10/10._

Dion finishes up, Orion comments, and Ariel tries to find something to comment on, but was _absolutely_ not paying attention. She takes this lull to gently ask Dion to grab her a cyber-biscuit. Without a moment’s delay, he excuses himself and stands on the six person long line.

“You really care about him, don’t you?” she asks, getting close to the end of her drink.

“Of course! Dion’s my friend, and … well between you and me, I think the job’s getting to him. He hasn’t been getting the sleep he needs and I’m afraid during our breaks I dominate the conversations about workplace malpractices.” He glances to his servos momentarily, before he slowly grips them tighter.

“You know, if we had better energon, we could at least have the energy to do the work they give us.” Ariel responds, seeing the mech’s shoulders rise. “This half milled scrap is barely enough to keep my optics open some cycles.”

“Yeah…” Orion trails off, looking out the window into the mid-day sky. “Forgive me, but I haven’t seen you around here? Where do you work?”

“Don’t you mean what my alt is?” She looks at him quizzically.

“Absolutely not. What do you do here?”

_His diction is so strange. Kind yet firm_. _Almost like aggressively compassionate._ “Oh. Well, I’m a Transporter. Not a Hauler, but I do business runs inside the borders whenever they need me. Sentinel Docks, that is.”

“I see… and how do you know Dion?” he questions with politeness, but pointedly.

She waits a moment, utilizing a sip to cover her rumination, “I know Dion, because I work in his unloading station. I’m a few rungs–”

“Above him?”

“No, no” _Scrap. Wrong word. He’s a political guy. I gotta check my wording. What do I do?_ She sighs, “Well you’ve found me out, Mr. Nightbeat. I only kinda know Dion because I see him sometimes and I wanted to talk to you.”

With that, a sort of silent shock fills Orion. His brow-line cements to a furrow and his optics lock with hers. He asks, much more sternly this time, “What do you do here?”

Ariel’s face completely freezes from the sudden roughness. Puzzled, she repeats her answer, from before, “I’m… I’m a Transporter? I shuffle documents and data from warehouse to warehouse??”

The way his optics blaze tells her that wasn’t the right answer. _Oh Primus, this should NOT be hot._ She sits straight up. _What is going on??_

“Orion! I’m just a transporter! Do you want to see my tag?? Why are you being so intense? Are you from the Magnus line?” _From the Pits, I should have asked him his house. If he’s a Magnus, I’ve made a terrible mistake. No level of hotness outdoes a Magnus’ debate-gene._

He looks at her. His optics flick from feature to feature and a different kind of shock fills his frame. His optics widen, the ferocity dissipates into … guilt? His shoulders drop, and he quickly holds onto Ariel’s servos.

“By Primus’ light,” his voice softens. “I didn’t mean to– I just thought– Primus I’m so sorry I thought–,” he takes a moment to breathe, “You didn’t have a real reason to talk to Dion and, well, I’m not the most, assembly line of mechs and you’re a Transporter. So, I thought you were trying to–”

“–Take you to Tarn?” A sigh escapes from Ariel. _Primus._

“–Take me to Tarn.” His optics close and his sweet face nearly collapses in shame.

Ariel looks at the mech and sees such conflict in his frame and face. A few marks smaller than her, a bit more decorated with his reds and blues, and a voice which reverberates through her spark. She wants to see those optics again.

“Orion,” she begins, “I don’t want to take you to Tarn.” She switches their servos so that hers are around his. “I want to take you to my berth.”

A clattering of a tray and spilled energon startles Ariel and grabs her attention.

It’s Dion and he’s looking at their locked servos. “ORION. PAX. NOT COOL.”

Ariel can feel Orion’s arms go limp as he shoots a look over to his flabbergasted friend and back towards the her. She can feel her smile stretch, filled with accomplishment. 

He looks again to his friend, before Ariel takes her digits out of his, quickly scrawls something onto her cup, and places it into Orion’s still-limp servos, feeling his well-worked palms grip the empty container.

“Call me after the load-bearers are off. Oh! Sorry, I mean after 8, Orion,” she gets up, and turns on her heel, “and I’ll see you tomorrow, Dion.”

And with that Ariel completes another conquest and gets back to work.

**Author's Note:**

> You're telling me you've NEVER thought some random hot chick was actually plotting to smuggle you into an unmarked government vehicle because of your politics? Can't relate.


End file.
